Grief- lettre to Claude, my friend, my husband

Thank you for sharing this letter, Loreta. What a wonderful tribute to a husband who was your companion in life for such a long time for mutual love and growth. Like others said, it is very courageous of you letting him move on to this new stage while he will keep watching over you and your dogs. Your connection will stay.

Take your time to process it all, and keep sharing when you feel you need to do so. :hug2:
 
I have only one friend here, a man named Juan whom we met almost at the very beginning of our arrival in the Canary Islands. He's a communist, and he offered me a room while I decided about my future. He said he could let me stay with him, and since he loves dogs and cats, there wouldn't be any problem with that. I could leave my books and especially Claude's things, which I've decided not to throw away. I can't bring myself to do that. I think it's important to respect these objects that speak of the one who's gone, even to honor them. It seems to me that the Japanese have this philosophy.

He even told me I wouldn't have to pay anything.

Apart from this solution, I'm in the dark. I'm living on an island without friends or family. I have a very dear friend in Madrid who, by the way, is coming to visit me for two days at the beginning of April. Staying near her would give me contact with a wonderful family. She is the daughter of a man with whom we formed a close friendship when we lived in that village of 20 inhabitants. He was an expert in flowers and adored not only nature, possessing a deep knowledge of plants, but also dogs. His name was Gildo, and he was very fond of Claude. When Gildo died, his daughter contacted me.

The other alternative would be to return to Canada. My sister and Claude's sister live there. What should I do? I don't know, and it might be too soon to make a decision, but rather to let things settle down and see the alternatives more clearly. This is the first time I've had to decide what to do on my own. For 40 years, Claude made the decisions; he was, in a way, the captain of the ship. Now that he's gone, I have to become captain myself, and I don't even have the captain's uniform!

My body is very tired and I've started eating and drinking again, but it's slow. Also, I have a bad case of lumbago. I've started the process of claiming Claude's pension; he worked at a university. I have to deal with other bureaucratic procedures, which I hate. But I have to do it.

My dogs are my lifeline and an incredible source of comfort right now. I've also started looking into things in case I have to leave the island by plane: the cost of vaccinations, passports for them, which airline is best for traveling with animals, and so on.

Here on the island, it's very difficult to find accommodation. But anything is possible. It's also difficult to find accommodation in Madrid and Quebec. I feel like I'm in limbo. My only friend is in Madrid. We'll see when she comes to visit. I'd like to live near her, not because I'm afraid of being alone—I like being alone—but to create a new connection with a family (she has two children) and start over in a place where the memory of Claude will hurt less.

For now, this is what my life is like. I can only return to yoga once my lumbago has healed. I've returned to reading.
 
Dear Loretta, I think ultimately only you can make that decision. It’s great that you have found somewhere to stay on the island for the time being. And I agree that holding onto memoirs of a person such as books and other personal effects are a special and beautiful way to honour Claude.

You have options which is great; my suggestion would be to take it easy for now, allow yourself to process things before you make any big decisions. Whichever option you decide to go with, there’s no right or wrong, just different opportunities.

Give it time, I feel that you will make the choice that will suit you best in due course. Sending you big hugs :hug2: :hug2:
 
Thank you @Arwenn. I've at least made the decision to keep his things. It's actually a gift Claude is giving me, a part of his life, his passion, his dreams. He was a man who had difficulty expressing his emotions, and now I know that his belongings will tell me about him; he will tell me about himself. It's all very strange. Having made this decision, a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
 
This morning I was so sad and I went out onto the balcony to cry. Suddenly, when I looked up, I saw an immense, beautiful rainbow in the sky. A photograph can't do it justice. I immediately thought it was Claude's spirit signaling to me, to comfort me, to tell me that everything would be alright, and above all, to thank me for keeping his things! Claude had a great love for his belongings, and since we had to move (I was looking for a place to live) before he became ill, he packed everything neatly into bags. Yes, he must be happy that everything is staying with me, or at least with Juan. He loved Juan too. They got along well. It was a pleasure to see them together; Claude didn't speak Spanish, Juan didn't speak French, but like in the film Zorba the Greek, they communicated well.
 

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Loretta, I think you have to take things slowly and be kind to yourself. You need plenty of time to grieve for your wonderful husband. I rcently lost my 72 year old middle brother to sudden and undiagnosed heart disease. Deaths are a shock, even to we who understand about the spirit world. My eldest brother and I had to clear his flat and it was so hard to decide what to throw away and what to keep. We were effectively disposing of his life and that hurt. I don't blame you for keeping Claude's possessions. Your heart will tell you when it is time to leave them behind.

I hope you are eventually able to decide where to live. It is a huge and impactful decision. You seem to have a very kind friend who has offered you accommodation in the meantime. You appear to have two choices. It is nice to have choices but sometimes it is also good to only have one and the decision is then already made. It is not a decision you should make until you feel really able to. Grief can cause us to react without thinking things through sometimes.

I have cats and they are my great love. It is nice to have something else living in my home apart from myself. I am glad your dogs are able to give you endless comfort in these difficult times for you. Continue to eat nourishing food and get plenty of rest. Take things slowly, and remember this wonderful forum is full of friends....:hug2:
 
I feel like I'm on the edge. It's actually the first time I've experienced this situation. I have always been a woman with initiative, energy, strength. The proof is that one day in Canada, I was offered to create a Community Center in an underprivileged area, and I did it. All the moves we did here, I organized them, Claude's papers, everything. And yet now, without him, I feel completely helpless, powerless, with nothing. Empty. I have a rather complicated situation ahead of me: I have to leave the accommodation, our landlord had told us before Claude got sick, and we had started putting our things in bags, and I had started looking for a new place, but it's impossible to find anything. I have no one here, only my dogs who keep me alive. I now realize that Claude, even if we were always like cat and dog, was a good anchor. Now I feel like I'm in a fragile dinghy without an anchor. At the mercy of the storm.

I can't stop crying, that's all I can say. With time, calm will return, who knows. The storms do not last forever. But darkness surrounds me, for now.

I always did everything with Claude, for 40 years, everything. Claude was my prison but also my passion, my obsession. Now it's emptiness. It's also as if, not a wall, but a mountain had fallen on me.

Thank you for giving me the space to express all of this.
 
@loreta, I am so sorry for your loss; your letters and all the pain you are going through really touch me.
I want to tell you that despite the sadness, you must realize that you are in a difficult situation, but it may not be as bleak if you focus your attention, find a little inner enthusiasm, and adopt an attitude of tackling each day without hesitation. Don’t let yourself be swept away without resistance by the unfavorable circumstances, nor allow your resolve to be shaken. Perhaps this could be seen as an escape from sadness, but it would be beneficial to see things in a better light and achieve some lasting effect. Don’t hesitate and keep moving forward, dear Loreta. This is a test, and there is still light in the midst of the darkness; don’t give up. You are in my prayers and thoughts. All the best to you.♥️
@loreta, siento mucho por tu perdida, me conmueven tus cartas y todo el dolor por el que estas pasando.
Decirte que a pesar de la tristeza debes ser consiente de que estas en una situación desfavorable de supervivencia, que puede no ser tan negra si concentras tu atención, un poco de entusiasmo interior y una actitud de resolver el dia a dia sin vacilar, no hay que dejarse llevar sin resistencia por lo desfavorable de las circunstancias, ni permitir que tu firmeza sea sacudida, quizá podría verse como un escape a la tristeza pero seria beneficioso, ver las cosas mejor y lograr algun efecto duradero. No vaciles y sigue adelante querida Loreta, esta es una prueba y aun hay luz en medio de la oscuridad, no hay que bajar los brazos. Estas en mis oraciones y pensamientos,Todo lo mejor para ti .♥️
 
@loreta, I am so sorry for your loss; your letters and all the pain you are going through really touch me.
I want to tell you that despite the sadness, you must realize that you are in a difficult situation, but it may not be as bleak if you focus your attention, find a little inner enthusiasm, and adopt an attitude of tackling each day without hesitation. Don’t let yourself be swept away without resistance by the unfavorable circumstances, nor allow your resolve to be shaken. Perhaps this could be seen as an escape from sadness, but it would be beneficial to see things in a better light and achieve some lasting effect. Don’t hesitate and keep moving forward, dear Loreta. This is a test, and there is still light in the midst of the darkness; don’t give up. You are in my prayers and thoughts. All the best to you.♥️
@loreta, siento mucho por tu perdida, me conmueven tus cartas y todo el dolor por el que estas pasando.
Decirte que a pesar de la tristeza debes ser consiente de que estas en una situación desfavorable de supervivencia, que puede no ser tan negra si concentras tu atención, un poco de entusiasmo interior y una actitud de resolver el dia a dia sin vacilar, no hay que dejarse llevar sin resistencia por lo desfavorable de las circunstancias, ni permitir que tu firmeza sea sacudida, quizá podría verse como un escape a la tristeza pero seria beneficioso, ver las cosas mejor y lograr algun efecto duradero. No vaciles y sigue adelante querida Loreta, esta es una prueba y aun hay luz en medio de la oscuridad, no hay que bajar los brazos. Estas en mis oraciones y pensamientos,Todo lo mejor para ti .♥️
Thank you. Yes, this is a test, and a very hard one.
 
Loreta dearest 💗 You are in the deep flow of grieving the passing of your beloved Claude, whom you have shared decades with.
It is normal to cry endlessly - because that grief, sorrrow, deep pain absolutely MUST come up and out. Crying is one of the most healing things you can do, to allow those emotions to surface fully, to be felt, witnessed, transformed. Think about how much you have held in and repressed over the years - most of us do that on some level, whether we realise it or not. That can become super toxic. Perhaps you might see the possibility that (as devastating as his passing is) Claude's transition potentially holds some residual gifts that actually help you to release a great deal of pain and programming in your own 'machine', ultimately helping you in the long term.

You and Claude were together a long time, it is a deep relationship that has had a formidable effect on you - mind, body, soul - and has been a huge part of your life path. Continuing to travel that path without your beautiful, beloved companion by your side in the physical 3D world is daunting beyond imagination. It will take time to adjust to new ways of being and exploring life. Your deep sorrow is testament to the great love held between you and the parts of you that had become so accustomed to having him there and all the ways he supported and stabilised the reality you shared. You will always be connected through light-love-knowledge, even though in many ways it feels as though some huge part of you has been severed or torn away and that is very hard to come to terms with. For now, you are spending time in different 'universities' or 'retreats' and you each have new paths to explore. At the same time, I recognise that is no easy thing to adapt to, after so many years together.

It's SOOOOOO ok to cry, and feel what you feel. :hug2: When someone transitions, nobody expects you to leap up the next day, get moving, magically start a new chapter, throw open a window, shout 'hooray!', fling some clothes, your toothbrush and dog food in a bag and go gallivanting around the world. You need space and time to grieve, to fumble and stumble blindfolded through the dark forest. Although there is a massive inner journey going on, you need to also be as present as possible in our 3D reality, acting in favour of your own destiny - practical steps - not allowing internal collapse to take over. It's surely a balancing act of epic proportions.

I realise that things feel very uncertain for you right now - even more given what is unfolding globally; so all that (on top of your grief) can feel very destabilising. It sounds as though you have options you can explore, even if some might be temporary? It feels to me like you need space to grieve - but you also need meaningful connection with others (people you feel safe and comfortable with). It can be hard finding that balance if you need a lot of personal space - I realise it could also be really weird living with others after living with Claude for so long, but it might possibly be good for you in some ways, even if only temporary? You have Juan's offer, you have your friend coming to visit and the possibility of moving near her and her family perhaps, you have your sister and Claude's sister in Canada. And that's just the start. Seriously, that's a pretty good start.

You are strong, you will find your way through this deep challenge. You weren't gifted all that feistiness for nothing! Pace yourself, recognise that it takes time to cope with deep grief and the loss of a beloved one. You have the ability to navigate your way forward... and not make rash decisions out of fear; instead choosing to chart a course toward stability as much as you are able, staying open to growth and new experiences. Yes, right now you feel you have been flung into a vast ocean, in the midst of a tempest, clinging to a fragile boat for dear life. But if you look around you will notice there is a bright light house nearby, its glow friendly and comforting as it weathers all storms, standing tall and true. The Universe has thrown you a life line to help you weather any storm (the forum) and that will help lead you to stable ground. You just have to pick up that rope and haul yourself closer to shore.

We can be grateful for the lifeline, we can be grateful for the fragile boat, but in time we can also learn to be grateful for the terrifying tempest that ultimately brought us closer to the light, to each other - and to our true selves.

A big hug, :hug2: foresty love 🌿🍄🐌💕 and gentle sunshine to you xx 🌻🌻🌻

PS: Have you done any of Laura's meditations recently?
 
Loreta dearest 💗 You are in the deep flow of grieving the passing of your beloved Claude, whom you have shared decades with.
It is normal to cry endlessly - because that grief, sorrrow, deep pain absolutely MUST come up and out. Crying is one of the most healing things you can do, to allow those emotions to surface fully, to be felt, witnessed, transformed. Think about how much you have held in and repressed over the years - most of us do that on some level, whether we realise it or not. That can become super toxic. Perhaps you might see the possibility that (as devastating as his passing is) Claude's transition potentially holds some residual gifts that actually help you to release a great deal of pain and programming in your own 'machine', ultimately helping you in the long term.

You and Claude were together a long time, it is a deep relationship that has had a formidable effect on you - mind, body, soul - and has been a huge part of your life path. Continuing to travel that path without your beautiful, beloved companion by your side in the physical 3D world is daunting beyond imagination. It will take time to adjust to new ways of being and exploring life. Your deep sorrow is testament to the great love held between you and the parts of you that had become so accustomed to having him there and all the ways he supported and stabilised the reality you shared. You will always be connected through light-love-knowledge, even though in many ways it feels as though some huge part of you has been severed or torn away and that is very hard to come to terms with. For now, you are spending time in different 'universities' or 'retreats' and you each have new paths to explore. At the same time, I recognise that is no easy thing to adapt to, after so many years together.

It's SOOOOOO ok to cry, and feel what you feel. :hug2: When someone transitions, nobody expects you to leap up the next day, get moving, magically start a new chapter, throw open a window, shout 'hooray!', fling some clothes, your toothbrush and dog food in a bag and go gallivanting around the world. You need space and time to grieve, to fumble and stumble blindfolded through the dark forest. Although there is a massive inner journey going on, you need to also be as present as possible in our 3D reality, acting in favour of your own destiny - practical steps - not allowing internal collapse to take over. It's surely a balancing act of epic proportions.

I realise that things feel very uncertain for you right now - even more given what is unfolding globally; so all that (on top of your grief) can feel very destabilising. It sounds as though you have options you can explore, even if some might be temporary? It feels to me like you need space to grieve - but you also need meaningful connection with others (people you feel safe and comfortable with). It can be hard finding that balance if you need a lot of personal space - I realise it could also be really weird living with others after living with Claude for so long, but it might possibly be good for you in some ways, even if only temporary? You have Juan's offer, you have your friend coming to visit and the possibility of moving near her and her family perhaps, you have your sister and Claude's sister in Canada. And that's just the start. Seriously, that's a pretty good start.

You are strong, you will find your way through this deep challenge. You weren't gifted all that feistiness for nothing! Pace yourself, recognise that it takes time to cope with deep grief and the loss of a beloved one. You have the ability to navigate your way forward... and not make rash decisions out of fear; instead choosing to chart a course toward stability as much as you are able, staying open to growth and new experiences. Yes, right now you feel you have been flung into a vast ocean, in the midst of a tempest, clinging to a fragile boat for dear life. But if you look around you will notice there is a bright light house nearby, its glow friendly and comforting as it weathers all storms, standing tall and true. The Universe has thrown you a life line to help you weather any storm (the forum) and that will help lead you to stable ground. You just have to pick up that rope and haul yourself closer to shore.

We can be grateful for the lifeline, we can be grateful for the fragile boat, but in time we can also learn to be grateful for the terrifying tempest that ultimately brought us closer to the light, to each other - and to our true selves.

A big hug, :hug2: foresty love 🌿🍄🐌💕 and gentle sunshine to you xx 🌻🌻🌻

PS: Have you done any of Laura's meditations recently?
Thank you, thank you. Your words and the prayers of my friends at the forum are a balm to my heart. Yesterday was a tough day, like Sunday. It's difficult. At one point, I had this feeling of total solitude, feeling like I was on an island, abandoned by everything, without any contact, nothing. It was the first time in my life that I felt how one can feel alone, with no one, with nothing, like in the middle of an island. I even blamed Claude for leaving me all alone on this troubled, harsh planet, on this island so far from everything; that's all I could see, me all alone in front of this fragile and uncertain future. My friend Lydia then reminded me that I am not alone, that I have my sister, that I also have her as a friend, that I have Juan, that I have the dogs and the cat.

Blind pain. Pain only makes us see pain and the absence of the other. I know that little by little... There is also fear. In fact, it's the first time I'm facing life all alone, like a big girl. It's terrifying.

I also know that I am not alone, that familiar and kind spirits protect me and to whom I ask for help. The other day when I went to see a Jewish doctor, a doctor by vocation who is loved throughout the Island, who is a Rabelais in his own way, I asked him if he believed in the soul. He looked at me for a long time with his somewhat sad eyes seeing me so sad, and he told me yes, and that during very difficult moments in his life he had the help of spirits to whom he had asked for help. "I have proof of it!" he told me.

Last Saturday, my sister and I connected via Teams to help me find out where to call to announce Claude's death, the government offices. My sister, who has always been very hard on herself, protecting herself from emotions (she was an excellent nurse), was very hard on me, and I saw that she held a grudge against me for when my mother, when she was two or three years old, gave her to our paternal grandmother because our mother was unable to take care of two children. When we hung up the call, her lack of empathy toward me hurt me so much, and I cried, cried, and Claude was so much missed at that moment, he would have surely said, "Don't worry." And then in the evening, she wrote to me that she regretted her words, and from time to time she sent me messages asking how I was doing, and yesterday we saw each other again on Teams. I told her that I needed her during these times, that I would like to see her, to have her close to me, and she will do her best to come see me in April.

Little by little, like a tortoise, I tell myself.

There are so many things accumulated in this apartment. What to do with all this? At Juan's place, I will bring the books and Claude's things, which are the inheritance he leaves me. The rest I don't care about.

Thank you for everything.
 
I want to share this photo with you, where we're obviously younger, but to show Claude's beautiful smile. This photo was taken the day after the attacks on the Twin Towers. We had dinner with his aunt and uncle, who were passing through Barcelona. His uncle had been a military engineer in Ontario and had worked on the towers, and he said—and we often talked about this with Claude—"It's impossible that those towers fell because of the planes." That day, there was a palpable sense of unease in the air.
You both look gorgeous. Throughout shining, smiling and (like champagne bubbles wanting to burst out of the mouth). Good spirits. Absolutely yes; Claude and Lydia 💞

I am truly sorry for your loss. And remember in times of chaos, pain, love, memories and circumstances rushing around with confusion: One step at a time !
 
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You both look gorgeous. Throughout shining, smiling and (like champagne bubbles wanting to burst out of the mouth). Good spirits. Absolutely yes; Claude and Lydia 💞

I am truly sorry for your loss. And remember in times of chaos, pain, love, memories and circumstances rushing around with confusion: One step at a time !
Thank you. Yes, he was a very kind person; everyone at work, in the family, all loved him very much. It wasn't always easy living with him, but today I've forgotten our quarrels; I only see his beautiful character, his patience, his strength, his creativity. He never expressed his emotions, so I don't know what he thought of me. I never knew if he was feeling bad; I would ask him and he would always respond that he was fine. He didn't want me to take care of him; he pushed me away. But we lived through many adventures, travels, even in Africa together.Honestly, I miss him.
 
Thank you. Yes, he was a very kind person; everyone at work, in the family, all loved him very much. It wasn't always easy living with him, but today I've forgotten our quarrels; I only see his beautiful character, his patience, his strength, his creativity. He never expressed his emotions, so I don't know what he thought of me. I never knew if he was feeling bad; I would ask him and he would always respond that he was fine. He didn't want me to take care of him; he pushed me away. But we lived through many adventures, travels, even in Africa together.Honestly, I miss him.
It is kind of funny. That particular photo, actually reminds me a little bit of my husband when he was younger. Albeit my guy is a very outgoing person and dares to speak of his emotions. They share however the same funny, lovely grin.

The way you describe Claude is interesting. And moving (!). Also puzzling that he was an introvert person, given the way he radiated with such a funny, lovely smile. So, you guys kind of... attracted each others, being a sort of opposite ? I mean your smile in the photo is absolutely contagious, giving a strong hint onto your very vivid outgoing personality *grin* And he probably loved and admired you for that, where he had difficulties to express himself ?
 
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